Music Through the Years
by Habeous Corpus
Summary: Prompt: Love Songs. Music's meaning can change dramatically through the years. For Mosie and Tromana, two of my favorite authors.


**A/N—February Entry to The Jello Forever Forum Monthly Challenge: Love Songs.**

***Wishes show would hurry up and name Jane's wife and kids***

**Music Through the Years**

"If Music be the food of love, then play on."

I think that was Shakespeare. I'm not sure, but I'm almost positive. Anyway, all that matters is that it's true. When I was younger, I thought love songs were mushy and disgusting. I would pull a face, and demand that the song be changed. Getting older, I realized that there was something to this "love" thing. A lingering look, a shy smile… it began to snowball. Then I met her, and everything changed. I began dreaming of beautiful women in white dresses, bells ringing, exotic honeymoons, and little footsteps running through the house.

So when a love song came on, I would look up and smile. If I was with her, I'd start waltzing, dragging her along with me. We would both end up clomping around in peals of laughter, but it was fine. We were together.

Then my love had to double. The imagined footsteps became real. My mornings went from quiet cups of tea to balancing a cup of tea while cleaning sticky hands. Nevertheless, it did not matter, because the three of us were together.

Then the unthinkable happened. I was torn away from them so suddenly. It seemed like the entire world had cast me aside, broken, shattered, and worthless. I had failed. A mental breakdown, they called it. I called it reality catching up with me. I was pasted to those white walls, dissected, and put back together. Then I was released back into the "wild."

When you've been away for a while, things tend to fall into disarray. The day I went home, I turned n the radio, and began to clean. Sugar-pop hits filtered through the partly-illuminated living room as I cleared away dust and cobwebs. It wasn't my favorite kind of music, but I was more interested in that act of independence. I didn't have to ask anyone if I could play music, rather, I did it freely because I wanted to. While scrubbing a particularly stubborn stain on my glass coffee table, a soft piano song came on. It didn't fit with the previous songs, so I stopped to listen. As soon as I heard the romantic lyrics being crooned, I immediately turned around to catch her in my arms as I had so many other times. She was not there, and the pain of my loss ripped through my heart yet again. It's a little embarrassing, but I fell apart. Sobbing, I collapsed on to the floor next to the table, leaning my head on the cool glass. My heart ached, and that broken feeling returned. Except this time, I was able to pull myself together. I reached up, and clicked off the radio. The silence of the room mocked me, but I did not give in. After washing my face, I attacked the stain with new fervor.

It is still there.

Every time after that, love songs had a new meaning for me. They meant pain, and failure. A bitter reminder of all my sins. I would push myself farther and farther from life into revenge. It was for a good reason; I was trying to protect myself. I started listening to jazz, desperate to avoid those sappy things. And all the while, I caged my heart, keeping out the well-meaning.

Until the high school reunion. The thrill of a solved case was still rushing through me, and music was playing. A slower song, with acoustic guitar. Lisbon and I were alone in the crowd, and she wanted to dance. I could see it. Her body started to slowly move to the music, and she looked longingly at the other couples. She "used to love this song." Truth be told, I wanted to dance too, and the song was growing on me. Even now, I'm still not sure why. So, I may or may not have sucked her in with every ounce of skill in my head. What matters is that we ended up on the dance floor. And believe you me, the last thing I wanted to pull was 'funny stuff.' But it didn't matter. We were both smiling.

It was a little awkward at first, partially because we weren't used to being so close. Then she got closer, resting her head on my shoulder, forcing me to push myself deeper away, because I could feel the pain rising up again. Yet I didn't want to pull away. Was it masochism? Or something else?

Then she took my breath away. She moved closer, leaning her whole body against me. I could feel her contented smile. Our bodies fit together well. Theresa began to hum, low and deep in her throat. I couldn't help but smile. She was so beautiful like this.

For the first time in years, I let myself live. It was an indescribable moment. We weren't just dancing to the song pumped out of the cheap speakers, we were dancing to nature's love song: the music of the spheres. We were just two human beings in harmony with each other.

Well, at least for me. It's probably a gross exaggeration, but it was wonderful.

You know, I think I'll go home tonight and give that stain a little more scrubbing.


End file.
